I Love You-Klaine Week 2013
by strikeachord
Summary: My fics for Klaine Week on tumblr, as follows: Day 1: Early Klaine, Day 2: Skank/Badboy!Klaine, Day 3: Fairytale AU, Day 4: Naughty Nice, Day 5: Anniversary, Day 6: Wedding, Day 7: Reunion. Enjoy!
1. Day 1: I Love You

Sunlight streamed through the clean windows of the Lima Bean, its warm fingers spreading out into the busy coffee shop. It brought with it the excitement of summer, which was fast approaching. Blaine could only focus on how they reached into Kurt's deep honey-colored locks, bringing out his lustrous golden highlights. They were standing in line in a rare silence, waiting to order coffee. While Kurt was checking his phone, Blaine drank in the sight of his boyfriend standing before him. Admittedly, it was nice hearing his voice over the phone every day when he had been away in New York, but nothing compared to seeing Kurt in the flesh, having him just a few inches away. Today, Blaine had a new-found obsession with his significant other. It felt like a hundred years had passed since he'd last seen Kurt, which was right before he'd left for the airport. During those few days—it was only a couple of days—Blaine could feel himself forgetting what Kurt looked like, what he _felt _like…while he knew Kurt was enjoying himself in the Big Apple, Blaine still felt a deep void metastasizing throughout his whole body.

With Kurt finally back beside him, Blaine could not help but feel the need to make up for lost time. He shamelessly stared at the boy, drinking in his presence. Why he didn't do this more often when they were together at Dalton, Blaine didn't know. He could not believe how long it took him to find Kurt, to realize that he was the one for him.

Kurt was the _only_ one for him.

Something stirred within Blaine at that notion.

They moved up in line, Kurt staring around the shop. Blaine desperately wanted to hold his hand, but he knew that Kurt wouldn't like that, since he wasn't into public displays of affection. _One of these days_, Blaine smiled as he thought about his future with the man beside him. Having a future with Kurt…Blaine felt his stomach jump with…hope? Nerves? He wasn't quite sure. He glanced back at his boyfriend for probably the thousandth time that day.

Just the sight of him was intoxicating; Blaine's eyes began to glaze over a bit as he studied Kurt's profile. His eyes swept down from his hair, to his high forehead, to his ski-slope nose, finally landing on his slightly parted, rosy lips that stood out against his alabaster skin. He held his gaze there for a prolonged amount of time, yearning to feel their gossamer, sweet touch on his own mouth after such a long time without them. God, how he missed cupping that face in his hands, how he missed running his fingers through his soft hair, how he missed kissing Kurt until they were both dizzy from lack of oxygen.

It wasn't just touching Kurt that he missed so much (although that was a big factor). He craved to talk with Kurt face-to-face, not just have some rushed phone calls while he was occupied with New Directions and the competition. Even though Kurt and Blaine were in a relationship, they were still as best of friends as they had been when they were platonic. There was just much more intensified feelings and a lot of kissing.

They finally moved up in line and ordered their drinks. Kurt turned to Blaine and joked about how the coffee in New York just wasn't the same as in Ohio; they laughed. _Kurt has such an adorable laugh_, Blaine thought as they grinned at each other. Everything just seemed so much animated whenever Kurt smiled: the sun shone brighter, the trees filled with brilliant emerald foliage, the sounds of nature blared at a louder, more jubilant tone. Blaine's knees still wobbled slightly whenever Kurt beamed in his direction, as he was doing then and there while they picked up their orders. Blaine thought that at some point he'd get over it, but the feeling had only strengthened as time passed.

After finding a table for two in the middle of the shop, Kurt and Blaine sat themselves down, and Kurt promptly launched into the tales of his epic adventures in New York. Blaine thanked God that he was a good multi-tasker: he listened to Kurt attentively while he continued to study Kurt like a rare piece of exquisite art. That same stirring he felt while in line began to manifest in his core. He felt a tenacious grip clutching at his insides, turning them to molasses; and then reach up to his heart, satiating it with emotions that were vaguely familiar, emotions that he only felt when he was with Kurt.

"Wait, I-I don't get it, you don't…seem that upset at all," Blaine observed as Kurt explained Santana's big meltdown and the plane ride home. He leaned his chin on his propped-up arm, looking at Kurt with interest. They hadn't even placed at Nationals; Blaine would be devastated if that happened to him and the Warblers.

"Well, it was still amazing, I mean, I flew on a plane for the first time in my life, I had breakfast at Tiffany's, I sang on a Broadway stage…"

"I love you." Blaine slurred the words, just letting them spill out before he could really consider them. It was true; Blaine had felt this was towards Kurt for a long time, but in this moment the feeling only swelled to what seemed to be an impossible amount of absolute admiration. How Kurt could focus on the transcendent things in life despite a colossal setback was just one of the infinite things about the boy that Blaine absolutely loved. It wasn't just how _stunning_ Kurt looked, or how the touch of his smooth skin felt against Blaine's: it was so much more than that. He remembered when he began to see Kurt in different light. He hated the phrase "falling in love": no, he was not falling not down into a deep, bottomless pit, as it sounded. Rather, he was soaring into the clouds, gliding through the multiple layers of the stratosphere towards the mass of stars and the unknown corners of the universe. This was all the way back when Kurt sang "Blackbird"—how had it taken him so long to utter those three words in consecutive order? He had loved Kurt for so long, he knew he had, but the words just happened to come out of his mouth right then and there in the coffee shop, where they used to come back even before Kurt transferred to Dalton.

The words came so naturally, as if he'd already said them a thousand times. Right as he said them, he knew that it was the right moment, the perfect time: there was no regret. There was no reason to make the profession of his love for Kurt a huge deal.

He watched Kurt, feeling his heart melt even more as he saw his shocked expression. Kurt had just taken a sip of his coffee: he lowered the drink from his lips, grasping the cup as he stared at Blaine. He gently sloshed the drink in his mouth, and then swallowed. It was like he was doing the same with the words, savoring them before he drank them down. Blaine stared back at the gorgeous boy in front of him, just waiting for the words he knew would come eventually.

"I love you, too." The hesitation was not one of uncertainty. It was disbelief; disbelief that anyone would ever say those words to him. Blaine found it adorable. The corners of Blaine's mouth perked up as he relished in Kurt's reaction. The smile was a lazy one; his whole being leaden with zeal. It was a perfect, perfect moment.

"You know, when you stop and think about it," Kurt began with a sly smile after he quickly recovered, "Kurt Hummel has had a pretty good year."

How true it was; Kurt always knew exactly what to say. Yes, there were many setbacks: Karfosky, leaving McKinley, losing Regionals with Dalton, prom, losing Nationals…yet with each setback came many more valuable occurrences. Blaine understood the underlying meaning of the sentence: it wasn't just the places he'd been to, or the small victories he'd celebrated. The goodness of the year came from meeting Blaine.

They quickly greeted Sam and Mercedes, who just happened to meet up in the parking lot of the Lima Bean and decided to get coffee together, and then went back to chatting with each other about Blaine's choices for his audition song to perform at Six Flags.

The moment passed so quickly, but Blaine could hardly suppress the giddy feeling thriving within from the milestone they had just passed. The best part about it was that absolutely nothing had changed. They just went on chatting with each other, but there was a subtle trace of even more sentiment and admiration in their expressions and conversation, if possible.

Blaine Anderson was in love with a man who loved him back, and life was absolutely perfect.

~FIN~

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! This is the first of a 7 part series, considering that I have to do one every day...I know this was really fluffy; it nearly made my sister throw up (she was proofreading).

This is also on my tumblr, championisjustatitle, and I also have another fanfiction "Until Next Time", which you should definitely check out!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Day 2: It's a Metaphor

Skank!Kurt and Badboy!Blaine. This one is rated M for language and sexual stuff.

* * *

Kurt strode up in front of _Scandals,_ his two friends flanked at his sides. He ran his fingers through his styled hair, looking out at the cars passing by on the highway. He was only wearing a vest on top, accentuating his toned arms and lean chest; low-rising, black, skin-tight leather pants stuck to his legs, with his most ridiculous pair of knee-length boots finishing off the look. He readjusted the fake ID precariously sticking out of the waistband of his pants as he turned to fact the club, rolling the unlit cigarette between his lips.

Kurt didn't smoke, but he gave him an alluring look that attracted many. It also gave him the opportunity to explain why he held them in his mouth, unlit, which was so profound that it often got him laid: _it's a metaphor,_ he told them, _that I have the thing that can kill me right here in my mouth but I'm not giving it the power to kill._ No one had yet recognized the John Green quote from the book that made Kurt cry for hours (yet he did not tell anyone that, ever; he had a reputation to uphold as the class skank), which somewhat upset Kurt, but he didn't mind because it made him sound cool and smart and hot. He silently thanked John Green every time it earned him another man, no matter how creepy it seemed.

"You think Cole's going to be in there?" Santana said, inquiring about Kurt's newest ex-boyfriend. She checked her nails, as if she were bored. Quinn looked at her, smoothing out her torn-up shirt a bit. Quinn was still going through her phase with the Skanks; Kurt wasn't sure how long it was going to last, but he was glad to have someone like her by his side to make him look like he had connections.

"Nah, he's probably still crying over me," he stated, confident in his response, "He should have known that a whore like me was going to drop him in a matter of days like Skrillex and the bass. I have needs, and he was just…boring." Kurt began to fiddle with his new ear piercing. "I think I'm feeling a softer guy, do you think there'll be any virgins? Virgins are always fun…"

_Vroooom! _The obnoxiously loud growl of a motorcycle nearly deafened Kurt, who turned around and watched it roar into the entrance of the parking lot with alacrity. He tried to catch a glimpse of the pretentious driver, but could hardly make him out in the dimly lit lot. The motorcycle pulled in a few spaces down from where Kurt, Santana, and Quinn were standing, so Kurt finally could get a better look at him. He slid off of the motorcycle, his back turned to Kurt, who shamelessly checked him out. The man was wearing the stereotypical leather-get up of a motorcyclist, black from head to toe, with a helmet covering his face and fingerless gloves giving him a grunge look. He locked the cycle and began to take off his helmet.

Kurt realized in that evanescent moment that maybe a softer guy wasn't exactly in the cards for that night.

"Let's go, Kurt," Santana grabbed his arm, tugging him alone. "I've got a test tomorrow that I can't fail, so let's get dancing, laid, and gone."

Kurt glanced one last time at the stranger, although he was fixed on finding him at some point that night, hoping to show him his own ride. He clasped his fingers around the cigarette that was leaving an awful taste in his mouth and placed it in his breast pocket, following Quinn and Santana into the club.

There was a short line to get in, as it seemed that the bouncers were fooling around a bit in the front. Kurt bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, impatiently tapping his leather-clad thighs with his long fingers. He just wanted to get in, find that motorcyclists for a nice, hard fuck, maybe get his number, and go. He felt himself get a little hard at the thought.

"Hey, you need something to calm you down?" A husky voice came from behind him, causing Kurt to start. He whirled around: it was the motorcyclist—without the helmet! He felt a swift kick to the lungs, knocking out all air from not only his chest, but his entire body. The man (man? Kurt wasn't sure—he seemed quite young up close) was beautiful, no matter the bad-boy vibes he radiated with. His black hair was lightly gelled, framing his perfectly-shaped face. His eyes were a deep, smoldering caramel, lined with black. Kurt never thought he'd be turned on by guy-liner. As the boy shifted, Kurt brought his gaze to the eyebrow ring now glinting in the light. Kurt fought to regain his composure.

"Maybe if you ditch that motorcycle to ride something else, yeah," he recovered quickly, biting his lip suggestively. The stranger pursed his own lips at the thought.

"Nice offer. I don't do guys who hold up the line, though," he added brusquely, nodding to the bouncers who were waiting on Kurt.

"Oh, well, this is a one-time thing. You'll be waiting in line for _me_ to—"

"Quit it, Flirt, or the only thing you'll have pounded in your face is my fist," the guy threatened, his eyes narrowed. Kurt, taken aback by the rejection, turned to the bouncers and flashed his fake ID. They let him through, and he joined Santana and Quinn, who were waiting for him on the other side. He felt something bump into him, hard: the stranger marched past him, with Kurt's eyes glued to his ass before he disappeared in the crowd on the dance floor nearby.

"I think you pissed him off, Kurt," Quinn observed.

"No shit, Sherlock. Better luck next time, Hummel, you need to learn to shut your dirty, cum-filled mouth around those bad boys, or they'll do you in," Santana advised him, enthusiastically clapping him on the back, "and I don't need that to happen to my only club-going buddy. You don't count, Quinn, I still see you as little Miss Perfect-Even-Though-I'm-Actually-Really-Loco.

"All right, I'm off to find me a lady who'll let me shove my tongue down her throat for a bit; care to join me, Quinn, even though I just insulted you?"

"Let's go by the bar. I need to drink the night away," Quinn said, unfazed by Santana's typical decries. "Hummel, you better grind up that dance floor for me."

"Aye aye, Captain Fabray," Kurt mock-saluted her as she skipped away with Santana. He only had one thing on his mind, though—he needed to find that bad boy and convince him that maybe pounding something in his mouth wouldn't be such a bad idea—just not his fist. He felt a conflagration of desire burning within him. Kurt had never wanted someone this badly; he didn't know why, but he knew that he needed that stranger to at least _touch_ him; just a slight brushing of hands would even suffice.

Kurt began to scavenge through the dance floor, the potent, fetid scent of sweat and alcohol causing him to crinkle his nose. The music pounded in his ears as he felt men dancing around him, some lightly touching him as a gesture to get him to dance. He even felt someone smack his ass; Kurt spun around and began to berate the offender, who was a blatantly inebriated middle-aged man.

"Hey! You're old enough to be my dad; that's fucking messed up! Go find some perv your own age. God," he spat, and returned to his search, hungrily rummaging through the jungle of people (why it was so busy on a Tuesday night, Kurt had no idea).

Again, he felt a pair of hands groping at his hips. Without even thinking, Kurt turned and blindly slapped the molester across the face. He felt metal scrape against his knuckle, and instantly regretted the hit right after he realized who it was.

"Oh God, I'm—I'm so sorry," he sputtered, heat rising to his cheeks. The stranger brought his hand to his cheek, giving Kurt an inquisitive look. Kurt stared back at him, feeling an awful churning sensation in his stomach, his mind speeding at a thousand miles per minute. _He's going to beat me up, oh my God, please, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry that everyone wants to tap this_…

The boy removed his hand, revealing an angry red handprint tattooed against his stubbly skin. _Did I really hit him that hard? _Kurt wondered.

"You've got spunk. I like that," the boy said lowly. Now before I start to feel the need to knock out all of those teeth in that gorgeous smile of yours, I want you to do me a favor."

"What's that?" Kurt tried to do his best to sound seductive, but the question still came out shaky and high-pitched. _How is he doing this to me? Wait, he did threaten to punch me…but he did say that my smile is gorgeous,_ holy shit!

"I want you to dance with me." He said lowly; Kurt was more than happy to oblige. A new, ebullient beat began to thump from the speakers, matching the pace of Kurt's heart as he started to show off his best moves. He let the music flow through his veins as he advanced his body towards the man's. Kurt glanced up at the boy, who was ogling him, his eyes giving Kurt an unnerving, sultry look. While this turned Kurt on, he could feel himself losing his power. Kurt was used to being the one in control: it seemed that with just one look, the stranger could control everything within his sight.

"So, bad boy, why don't you tell me what your name is?" Kurt urged as he sidled up closer to him, desperately clinging onto the last threads of domination that were quickly slipping away. He planted his hands on the man's shoulders, gripping them as he returned the stare, attempting to match their impossible intensity.

"That, my friend, is confidential information, until you answer my question," he smirked at Kurt, grabbing at his hips and pressing his thumbs into Kurt's bare skin so firmly that Kurt was sure there'd be bruises the next day.

"And what might that be?" Kurt involuntarily licked his lips, rubbing his thigh against the motorcyclist, the small contact engulfing Kurt's being with a strong wave of cupidity that nearly sent him down to his knees.

"Which is what?" Kurt retorted, leaning in slightly. Their faces were just a few inches apart; Kurt had to cross his eyes slightly to keep the boy focused.

"I want you to tell me what an underage man like yourself is doing here, Kurt Hummel," he whispered in Kurt's ear, his teeth gazing his earlobe. Kurt felt chills run up and down his vertebrae at the mere touch. Then he realized what exactly he said.

"Wait, how—"

"I have many sources, babe." Suddenly he crashed his lips against Kurt's; Kurt opened his mouth in shock, and the man took it as an invitation to roughly shove his tongue down his throat. Kurt moaned against him, clasping the boy's face into his hands and returning the gesture with much enthusiasm. His teeth clinked with a small metal ball bearing: Kurt realized it was a tongue piercing. Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids as he walked his fingers into the boy's hair, entangling his fingers as best as he could in the gelled curls. Finally, after what felt like a millisecond and a million years in some strange way, the man gently broke off the kiss, glancing down first at Kurt's wet, swollen lips and then back up in his eyes.

"That's precisely why," Kurt answered the inquiry, feeling a little dazed. The boy promptly gathered Kurt into another kiss, even rougher than before.

"Sorry," he laughed after they surfaced for air again, "I just could not help myself. You're a little minx, you know that, right?" He snaked his hands up the back of Kurt's vest, his skin sending electric shocks throughout Kurt's nerves. Kurt lodged his fingers through the loopholes of the man's pants.

"Now it's my turn. What's your name?" Kurt drew their bodies even closer, earning a small groan from the stranger. _Oh my God, how did I even manage to score this perfectly flawed guy_…

"You'll see," That_ fucking_ smirk returned as he removed one of his hands from Kurt's back, reaching it into Kurt's breast pocket. He pulled out a small slip of paper that Kurt had never seen before.

"How…what did you do?"

"I reverse pick-pocketed you," His grin began to emulate that of the Cheshire Cat's; he unfolded the paper and pressed it into Kurt's hand. Kurt brought it to eye-level, reading a phone number and—

"_Blaine Anderson,xx_. Well. Nice to meet you, Blaine." Kurt looked up at him, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Whatever. Now, do you have a light?" Kurt was confused. Blaine had seemed so interested in him; he even gave him his number. Now all he cared about was smoking on the cigarette that he swindled from Kurt's pocket. _That sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it, you skank_, a small voice piped up in the back of his mind.

Wait, the cigarette! Kurt ignored the voice and hoped that this would work on Blaine.

"I don't smoke. You see, it's a metaphor. I put the killing thing in my mouth but—"

"—you're not giving it the power to kill." Kurt's mouth fell open. "Yes, I may look like a bad ass with a cold heart or whatever, but I read that book too. I cried." He admitted, shrugging it off like it was no big deal.

Kurt did the only thing he could think of: he kissed Blaine, initiating it for the first time, knocking the cigarette from his lips and sending it tumbling to the floor.

"I've never," he panted against Blaine's suddenly hungry lips, "met anyone who read that book. God, that's so…ugh," he was unable to complete his thought as he felt Blaine's hands grabbing at his thighs, running up and down higher and higher until—

Kurt backed him up into the nearby wall, running his hands all over every part of Blaine's body that he could reach. They were both in a state of euphoria, drunk just off of each other's beings. Kurt gasped as Blaine groped his ass, inadvertently rutting himself against the boy. Blaine's jacket sleeves were pushed up to the crooks of his elbows, showing off a plethora of fascinating tattoos inked in black against his skin.

"Why don't we blow this off," Blaine breathed, nodding his head towards the nearby bathroom while Kurt busied himself with biting his neck.

Kurt's heart fluttered at the words. This wasn't just any normal hook up, even though it appeared to be one. He brought his gaze up to meet Blaine's and nodded, giving him his best bedroom eyes. Blaine then grabbed his hand and led him to the room, excitement growing not just in their minds.

* * *

"Looks like Kurt got himself a guy," Santana commented to Quinn as she sipped her drink. They watched as Kurt and the strange motorcyclist skipped towards the bathroom. "Props to him. They were getting really handsy, though. That's not really Kurt's style, he likes to wait. Hm."

"Good for them. I bet he won't be able to walk tomorrow, based on how tight those guy's pants look against his—"

"Quinn, just shut up and kiss me. I'm bored, and the last thing I need is to hear your fucking cavity-worthy, sugar-coated voice."

~FIN~

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A/N: Hope you liked it! You can find my my Day 1 fic, "I Love You", on my page/my tumblr championisjustatitle.


	3. Day 3: The Boy and the Golden Pond

A/N: This is an original "fairytale". Enjoy!

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a small village thriving with people that lived under the rule of a king and his family in the middle of a kingdom far, far away. For the most part, it was a normal town, yet they had a secret. If you followed a path leading out from the main hall, past the large elm tree and into the woods, you'd reach a clearing containing a perfectly circular pond that was said to be enchanted. Indeed it was, considering that from the time the sun would rise to the time it set, it would turn gold; a shining, aureate liquid gently lapping just a few feet within the quaint wooden house nearby.

It was fabled that perhaps the magical pond was related to the disappearance of the prince. Many years ago, the king and his wife tearfully announced that his son was nowhere to be found, and implored everyone within the kingdom to search for him. Since so much time had passed without even a whisper of the boy, everyone presumed him dead. Even the royal family seemed to have given up, and they announced that the younger son, a wicked boy who reveled in bloodbath. No one investigated the pond, however, which began to turn gold around the time of the prince's disappearance. Because of this relation, no one went near it in fear that something would happen to them. That was also a reason why no one went up to the house sitting next to the pond; they were too afraid to find out who or what lived inside.

Occasionally, the healer would travel past the home on the way to the woods to gather herbs, and he'd see a young man sitting at the edge of the pond, staring at the molten, precious metal. He thought nothing of it, although he didn't recognize the boy, and went on his way, not informing anyone of the stranger.

This boy's name was Kurt Hummel, and he, in fact, lived in the little abode with his father, Burt. Burt often traveled to other parts of the kingdom with his old horse, Tire, to trade the vegetables he grew in his little garden with other villages. He was wary of the nearby village, for they had exiled his father for trying to encourage the creation of fictitious literature, which was silently condemned in the society. Thus, Burt and Kurt moved into the little home and lived by themselves; Burt cut Kurt off from all outside communication. This seclusion was painful for Kurt, as he yearned to explore the world and meet new people, so he buried himself into the hundreds of stories his grandfather created, the ones Burt hid under the rug in the corner of the kitchen. He traveled to so many different places, from the woods near his home to the stars above. Typically, however, they were set in the woods, where children would get lost. Sometimes they had happy endings, but most of the time they had sad endings. Kurt didn't mind it, though: he liked to make up his own alternate endings. He especially loved reading about the boys—for some reason, he liked boys better than girls. This hobby was almost as good as sitting beside the pond.

Kurt remembered the first time he saw the pond. Ever since he could remember, it turned that strange deep caramel—to him, it almost seemed natural for ponds to be that auric color—and he would go outside and watch it churn against the deep emerald grass. Kurt would take a story outside with him, reading the scroll while he listened to it gently ripple and ferment next to him. Sometimes he'd simply stare at it, searching for his reflection, a sign of life, anything within the viscous waters. Burt advised him to never, ever touch it after he noticed his son's obsession. Kurt was not exactly sure why his father was so adamant about this, but he obeyed nonetheless. It was bad enough that he was disobeying him by reading the stories.

One blindingly sunny day, after Burt had been gone for a few days, Kurt decided to have a picnic outside. He cooked himself some soup over the fire in the fireplace, grabbing a blanket he made and bringing it outside to set up while he waited for his food to finish. While he set the blanket down, however, something strange caught his eye.

There was something in the pond!

Kurt rushed to its side, desperately scanning the entire perimeter of the body of water. Yes, there was a different motion to it, and—aha! A shadow flitting in front of him! He moved his own body, making sure it wasn't his own; it was not, as danced almost like a flame. He examined it further, his nose almost touching the odd substance. It appeared to be an outline of—what? It had legs, arms, a head—it was a human body!

He jumped back, astonished by his discovery. He fell on his bottom, feeling a strange rush of emotion explode within him. Yes, there was a body in there, but what if—what if—it was somehow alive? It was a magical pond, Kurt was sure of that, so perhaps it didn't work the same way that water did. He began to wonder if it was possible for him to retrieve the body.

This thought pestered Kurt so much that he forgot all about his soup and began to search through his mind, trying to find a solution. By the time he came up with one, one that seemed _so_ absurd, the sun had already left the sky, painting it a deep indigo with bright white specks twinkling around a bright full moon. Part of the plan was to hold a nightlong vigil beside the water, so he snuggled up under the blanket with the cool grass cushioning his back.

He slept fitfully, waking up every so often to watch the water for any developments. Nothing happened throughout the night. He knew that by daybreak, he'd have to perform the rest of the plan swiftly, for he believed that Burt would be returning later in the day. Kurt wasn't entirely sure why, but this event seemed to be a huge turning point in his life. Something big had come, something that may be the answer to the anomaly that was the pond.

Dawn reached her fluorescent fingers up into the sky, clashing against the dissipating navy. Kurt studied the pond intensely, keeping his eyes glued to its waters. It was hard to see from the lack of lighting, but he watched as a golden glaze languidly began to cover the surface. It began to illuminate the remaining water, revealing—

It was a body—the body of a young man, his eyes shut, his body curled up into a floating ball. Before Kurt even realized what he was doing, he quickly stripped down to his underwear and jumped into the water, instinct taking over the fact that he had no idea how to swim.

He felt his lungs begin to burn as he felt his fingers finally brush against the solid object his deduced was the boy: he fearfully opened his eyes, praying that the gold would not blind him. Thankfully, the gold had only reached the diameter of the pond. Kurt grabbed a handful of the rich, soggy material the boy was wearing and kicked his legs, struggling to swim up to the closing gap.

Kurt wished that he was stronger and not so scrawny, for it was very difficult to carry a whole other body with him while he felt his own body becoming leaden with prostration. However, he felt a peculiar tingling in his fingers, which were touching the boy's waxy skin. This urged him to continue on, and he slowly felt his efforts begin to pay off: the surface was nearing, his chest was about to explode—

With an abnormally substantial amount of strength, Kurt hoisted the boy out of the water. He felt something cut into his foot as he dragged himself out, crying out after he fell into the welcoming land. His entire body shuddered as he coughed, gasping for air. Then he remembered why he jumped into the water in the first place.

"Where—where am I?" a voice called out quietly from behind him. Kurt turned around on his knees.

The boy was lying down, his arms at his sides and his legs spread slightly. He was a little shorter than Kurt, but appeared to be about the same age as him. His eyes were closed, his rosy lips open as he slowly breathed in and out. He was wearing gorgeous clothes which were drying at a rapid, unnatural pace, clothes that were—

"Fit for a king," Kurt whispered. Could it be…?

Kurt crawled over to the boy, leaning over and placing a hand over the boy's: it was quickly heating up as opposed to how frigid and dead it felt when he first touched his skin. Suddenly, the boy's eyes fluttered open, finally resting on Kurt's eyes, which widened in fear.

They were gold—the exact gold of the pond. They, however, were very warm and inviting, unlike the water, which seemed so untouchable.

"Hello, there," the boy said softly. "You saved me."

"Wha-what happened to you?" was all Kurt could muster. The boy groaned, screwing up his eyes as he tried to remember what happened.

"Well, I was walking through the woods last I can remember, I don't know how long ago it was, when a man met me by a strawberry bush. He invited me to have some lunch with him, since a boy like me should be very tired after traveling the entire day—how he knew that, I'd no clue. Anyway, I allowed him to lead me to where I thought his house was, but he actually led me to this pond. That house wasn't there though." The boy sat up with great effort, pointing to Kurt's house; Kurt quickly placed his hand on his back to support him. The boy gave him such an ardent look that Kurt felt his heart turn to jelly. "He then told me, with this mad look in his eyes, that this would be his greatest story yet, and threw me into this pond."

"Hold on a second," Kurt interrupted, trying to piece the story together. "'Greatest story yet…oh no! I know exactly who that was!" he cried with dismay. "It was my grandfather!" Kurt could hardly believe it. It had to be him!

"Then how can I trust you?" The boy's eyes narrowed: they still were breathtaking, even when they raged with an angry flame.

"I'm not my grandfather. I hardly remember him; he died many years ago. Please, though, I implore you to go on. How did the pond turn gold?"

The boy seemed to forgive him. "I remember seeing someone before I felt myself losing air. He threw something over the water, which made it turn funny. I felt my body fill with air, but…I couldn't breathe or do anything. It was like I was under a deep sleep, but..not. The man, his face—it was somewhat like yours." He gave Kurt a questioning look.

"Maybe…maybe it was my father. Why would he do that?"

"Because I thought you might need someone," a deep voice sounded from behind the two of them. Burt appeared, Tire trotting behind him. Kurt dropped his hand from the stranger's cheek; he hadn't even realized that his hand climbed all the way up the man's back and landed on his face. "I had a feeling you were destined to do great things, Kurt. You have saved Prince Blaine, and I couldn't be more proud."

There were so many questions that Kurt wanted to ask, so many that were bursting from his mouth, but all he could muster was, "Who are you?"

"Maybe I'm not a merchant. Maybe I am. That doesn't matter anymore. Kurt, you are destined for bigger things than being an exiled Hummel." Burt clasped his hand on his son's shoulder. "I know your secret, even though you may not know it right now. Before you leave, I want you to know that I'm fine with it."

"Leave?" Blaine asked. _Prince Blaine,_ Kurt thought, _a real prince. Wow._

"Yes. Someone needs to escort you back to the castle, right?" Burt smiled, his eyes a bit teary.

"Oh, Dad! I'll come back as soon as I can, but, wow! This is exciting!" Kurt flung his arms around his dad's neck.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Burt muttered, and then raised his voice. "Well, Kurt, I'll pack you up. Why don't you chat with your royal highness," he bowed in Blaine's direction, "and I'll be out in minute." Burt left, leaving the two boys to themselves.

"I wonder he meant by my 'secret'," Kurt pursed his lips. The words struck a certain chord deep within him; it rung out even louder as he looked back into Blaine's beautiful face, which was soft. His eyes, his eyes, his eyes; they had the strangest expression, an emotion behind them that Kurt had never seen.

"I think…I think I may know," he said quietly, blushing slightly.

"What do you think it is, Prince Blaine?" Kurt said, addressing the boy properly.

"First, don't call me that, just Blaine is fine," he started a bit shakily. "Next, don't—just—"

Blaine reached up an pressed his lips to Kurt's, staying there for a few seconds, and then quickly broke away, unable to meet Kurt's gaze.

Kurt pressed his fingers to his lips, trying to compute what had just occurred. They still tingled after the alien touch—a good tingle. He stared at Blaine, feeling things he'd never felt before.

Aren't boys supposed to feel this way about girls, a small, nervous voice sounded in the back of his mind.

"Do—do that again." Kurt found the words tumbling out of his mouth, and before he knew it, the boy's lips were on his again, moist and sweet and just pure ecstasy. Kurt sank into it, cupping Blaine's face with his hands, knowing what his father meant about the secret.

In that moment, he understood what his grandfather wrote in one story, the only story involving a boy and a girl falling in love and living together forever: "He looked at her, and she looked at him, and they both knew, in that small moment, that the locking of their eyes locked their lives together in love." Somehow, despite his madness that was now evident to Kurt, his grandfather still understood what love was. Perhaps that was why he wrote so many stories, to siphon the delirium out through pen and parchment. Obviously, it didn't work, but Kurt appreciated the effort.

They kissed again, and Kurt realized that he wouldn't care what other people thought, since in the kingdom boys were supposed to be with girls and that was that. He knew, based on what Blaine was doing to him, that Blaine felt the same. As long as they had each other, they would be okay.

Kurt tore away from Blaine, staring into his stunning eyes that were full of love.

"Were your eyes always that color?" he asked.

"What, aren't they green?" Blaine answered with slight concern.

"They're—they're gold," Kurt giggled. He wasn't sure why he found it funny. "Just like the water of the pond sank under your eyelids and stained your eyes."

"Hm. That's awful, especially considering that it will always remind me of what ruined my life," Blaine said sadly.

"Don't think of it that way," Kurt soothed him, "that's how you got me, right? Every time I'll look in your eyes, I'll think of how we first met. I think they're beautiful, to be honest."

Blaine was rendered speechless by this, and could only respond by kissing him enthusiastically.

Kurt and Blaine then ventured off to the castle, where Blaine had a tearful reunion with his parents. He explained, with the help of Kurt, what happened to him, and also explained the unorthodox condition of his relationship with Kurt. They were so overjoyed to have their son back that they accepted it immediately, and announced that Blaine was next in line to the throne, along with his partner, Prince Kurt. No one in the kingdom dared to defy the uncustomary type of relationship, and grew to accept it greatly over time.

Eventually Kings Kurt and Blaine ruled together, having a lovely adopted family and a wonderful, harmonious kingdom. Burt moved to the castle, with his powers still a mystery, but everyone lived happily ever after.

~FIN~

* * *

A/N: Sorry that it's late, I just had a really busy day yesterday. Hope you liked this one!


	4. Day 4: The New Kid

Warning: M for language/almost sex.

* * *

"Hey, who's that boy?" Blaine asked Mike as they walked down the hallway together. Mike had been chosen to show Blaine, the new kid, around McKinley. It was a decent school in Blaine's opinion, but there weren't enough cute guys. At least, none of them were to his taste.

Except for this boy, who was standing in front of his locker, smoothing out his stylish shirt as he examined his reflection. Blaine couldn't see his face, but fuck, just his damn silhouette could make Blaine hard. Blaine was thankful that he was holding his binder in front of his crotch, because it gave him the ability to inconspicuously keep his eyes glued to that back, that _ass_. He knew instantaneously that the boy was gay: no straight guy could pull of an outfit like that.

"That's Kurt Hummel," Mike said, a bit uncomfortable. That look in Blaine's eyes was a little unnerving. "You can talk to him later; he's really nice, so he wouldn't mind. We should get you to fourth period, though, since we're already a little late…"

"Thanks a lot, Ching-Chong, or whatever your name was, but I don't need your assistance anymore. I'm about to score this hot rod," Blaine snatched his schedule from Mike's hands swaggered towards the boy, leaving a dumbstruck Mike standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Hey, hot stuff, do you think you could help me to my next class? Or better yet, to your ass?" he said lowly behind the boy, catching a glimpse of his shocked face in the mirror.

"Excuse me?" the boy whirled around, and Blaine felt a swift kick to the guts. _Wow_. Kurt was absolutely breath-taking: his hair was perfectly styled, his eyes an enticing beryl color, and his lips shaped into an O-shape—Blaine was amazed with how many dirty fantasies his mind could contrive in such a minute amount of time.

"I-uh-my—sorry, I tend to stutter around gorgeous guys," Blaine tried his most winning grin as he uttered one of his most popular pick-up lines. Lord, all he wanted to do in that moment was back that boy into the locker, pull his pants down, and fuck him until he couldn't walk straight for a week. The boy looked up at Blaine, a conflicted look on his face. It seemed as if no one had ever spoken to him this way. _Yes, a virgin_, Blaine cheered in his mind.

"I'm sorry, I—I need to get to ass-class. Class. You—where's your next class, maybe I can help you, since I know this school better than the back of my hand." Kurt tentatively reached his hand out to take a look at Blaine's schedule. Blaine, however, had something other than class on his mind. He grabbed Kurt's hand and pinned it against the lockers behind him, staring deep into his eyes. Blaine wanted so badly just to kiss him right there, but a rational voice in the back of his mind rang out against the clutter of sexual urges.

"Don't screw this up, Anderson. This is the most beautiful guy you've ever seen; you need his consent. He's fragile, don't crack him," it advised. Somehow, Blaine willed himself to slow down, since he was so close to reaching his hand down to grope Kurt's groin.

"Class isn't exactly on my mind right now. I don't know if it's on yours either, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

He's so hot when he blushes, Blaine observed. "I don't have class, I have lunch, but you—this is wrong, I can't-"

"C'mon, babe, live a little," Blaine purred, leaning a little closer. "I'm the new boy, I have a clean slate—and I want you to write all over it."

He was at a loss for words at that. Blaine could just see that Kurt found him attractive, he knew it, he had to be. There was no way that Kurt couldn't reciprocate the strong feelings that Blaine felt for him simply at first glance.

"No, this is inappropriate, I can't." Despite the context of the sentence, Kurt's tone indicated otherwise.

"Can I please try one thing to convince you?"

"Okay, just one thing, just not too—_oh_," Kurt gasped against Blaine's lips, sinking into the kiss. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness: Kurt simply let Blaine kiss him roughly, licking his lips aggressively against Kurt's closed ones. Suddenly, though, Kurt shifted the passion of the kiss—he somehow began to tame Blaine, turning the kiss from brash to utterly romantic, one to compete with that from _The Notebook_. Blaine felt himself fall into Kurt, the sexual beast in his chest subdued as they gently pressed their lips together. Finally, Kurt stepped away, unable to look at Blaine, who was looking up at the boy with a different kind of emotion churning deep in his core.

"Wow," he breathed at the same time as Blaine. They giggled at each other. "To be honest…I've never been kissed before…like that," he added, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"That's a surprise to me; if I'd been here longer we would have already fucked each other," Blaine replied, losing his filter. Kurt blushed even harder. "Christ, I've only just met you, and you're already driving me crazy," he added, groaning as felt his binder slipping from his hand which was still covering his erection, trying so, so hard not to simply let it drop from his grip and slip his free hand into the back pocket of Kurt's pants, pressing into his ass to bring them closer together. He felt himself straining in his jeans at the thought.

"I don't commend missing school, but…we could say you got lost, and…" Kurt gave Blaine an innocent little grin. At that, Blaine lost all control: he crashed his mouth against Kurt's. How he snagged an angel like Kurt, he had no idea, but Blaine didn't care about that anymore. He moaned a little as Kurt finally allowed his tongue access into his mouth. Without even thinking, Blaine let the binder fall to the floor as he pressed his hands into the small of Kurt's back and brought them even closer. He felt Kurt shudder as their arousals (Blaine felt the world spin around him at this) brushed together.

"Kurt?!" A male voice exclaimed from down the hall, causing Kurt to jump back. Blaine nearly face-planted, since he was leaning into Kurt so much. They turned around to face who was the cause of the interruption.

"Mr. Schuester, I'm—I'm busy," Kurt sputtered, trying to cower behind Blaine, his face as red as a tomato.

"I…can see that, Kurt. Who's your friend here?" The man smiled genuinely at Blaine.

"I'm Kurt's friend with benefits." He answered simply. Kurt slapped his thigh, only causing his hidden cock to throb even harder. Mr. Schuster gave him an inquisitive look. "I'm the new kid, okay, and I have claimed Kurt Hummel's ass as my territory, so back off." With that, he grabbed Kurt and tugged him along into the nearby bathroom. Kurt didn't even fight Blaine, he was caught so off-guard.

"Blaine, that was my choir teacher-" Blaine cut off Kurt's cries with another rough kiss, running his hands up and down Kurt's back.

"Fuck, Kurt, forget about him. That was a minor inconvenience, I just—God, you're so fucking beautiful," Blaine then backed Kurt up against the nearby wall, sticking his leg in between Kurt's as he bit at Kurt's neck. Kurt wriggled in pleasure underneath him.

"Blaine," he began, his voice strangled as Blaine found a sensitive spot by his clavicle, "can we just…not go any further? I'd…like to save that to when we're not in school. And we're going so fast…"

"Well shit, masturbating won't be enough to get me off from how good you're making me feel right now," Blaine whined, resting his hand on Kurt's thigh, slowly walking it closer and closer…

"Please, Blaine, can you just wait until after school? I hardly even know you-oh my god!" Kurt practically shouted as Blaine finally rested his hand on Kurt's crotch, gently adding pressure.

"You like that, don't you? Don't lie, Kurt, I know you do," he growled into Kurt's ear, who just whimpered as a response. Blaine continued to touch him as no one had touched him before, reveling in the intense pleasure he was giving Kurt. As he kissed and touched the boy, he somehow came up with a compromise.

"Let's just fuck each other through our clothes, all right?" he said. "No harm done. Is that—okay, that's obviously fine with you," Blaine grimaced as Kurt eagerly grabbed Blaine's ass. "Christ, who knew you could be so fucking dirty, Kurt?" he proceeded to rub himself against Kurt. They continued to pant and moan at the friction of their clothing. Surprisingly, it was actually really hot for Blaine: it was scorching with their clothes on, and it was amazing to know that Kurt wanted to save more for later.

"Blaine, I won't last much longer, we need to stop," Kurt moaned as Blaine rutted himself against the boy. Blaine realized that he himself was also very close: his pants easily stained, so he could not afford to come. He nearly cried at the thought.

"Okay, okay, just…one last thing, and then we'll cool off," Blaine said, "Please, just…I need this." He flipped Kurt over, so the boy's exquisite back was facing him, as well as that ass that taunted him even when he first saw it…

"_Blaine_," Kurt growled warningly as Blaine pressed himself into Kurt's clothed ass. He rammed himself Kurt, trying so hard to control himself.

"Oh God, this was a mistake, Kurt, I—give me a few minutes, just…go to class. Meet me here after school, I'll take you to my place and—_fuck_," Blaine quickly turned Kurt around, gave him a swift peck on the lips, and rushed into a bathroom stall, undoing his pants and freeing his painfully-hard cock right after he fumbled with the door behind him. Just one touch gave him the release he needed: he heaved a great sigh as he reached the height of his pleasure, and collapsed against the wall of the stall.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?!" a high pitched voice unlike Kurt's screeched from behind him; Blaine whipped his head around. _Oops. I didn't close the door._

"This is the girl's bathroom, God!" the girl shouted, covering her eyes with her hands. "You perv!"

Blaine laughed and cleaned himself up, then pulled his underwear and pants up. "You're lucky I've only got one sexuality, my friend, and that is Kurt Hummel. If only you'd been in here a couple of minutes earlier, Oh God…"

* * *

After school, Blaine waited for Kurt outside of the bathroom, a sultry smirk on his face. Kurt blushed as he approached Blaine.

"I didn't realize this was a girl's bathroom," he muttered, obviously embarrassed. "Not until-I noticed there were no urinals while you…"

"While I basically fucked you?" Blaine called out, causing a few heads to turn as they passed by the two boys. "It's good that you dashed afterwards; after I got off while thinking about how hot that was, and how hot you are," Kurt looked down at his shoes, again too embarrassed to meet Blaine's gaze, "a chick came in and started yelling about me being in there. Too bad she missed our little session."

"Yeah, that was Santana. It's kind of all over school that we sort of-" Kurt was unable to finish the sentence.

"Oh God, I've corrupted you and your reputation. I guess you're not so sweet and innocent anymore?" Blaine asked, rubbing his hand on Kurt's bare, muscular arm.

"Maybe not. Well, not after tonight," Kurt grinned at Blaine, who smiled even wider back at him. He could not even express how he felt about this into words: he simply drew Kurt in for another sweet, sweet kiss.

* * *

__A/N: I basically wrote this in an hour while Glee was on, which I wouldn't be able to watch anyway because my dad is using the tv to watch soccer :( Hope you liked it/are enjoying these! I'm having fun writing them :)


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